


So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish

by Fiachra



Series: Strandloper [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fish, Gen, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy References, Merlock, Merman Sherlock, and penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiachra/pseuds/Fiachra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't mind his flatmate being part Mer. Really he doesn't. What he DOES mind is the flat suddenly being full of fish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish

_The fish and I were both stunned and disbelieving to find ourselves connected by a line."_

\- William Humphrey in "The Armchair Angler"

Fish.

The flat was full of fish. Yellow fish swimming in an impressive variety of containers that were perched on nearly every available surface. Sherlock (of course this was his doing) had scavenged a few small aquariums from goodness knows where but the majority of their new flatmates were in buckets, plastic storage crates and one specimen was floating contently in what looked suspiciously like one of Mrs. Hudson’s larger Tubberware containers. John turned in a circle, bewildered and just thankful that they were living fish, unlike some of the things Sherlock brought back for “experimental purposes”.

“Sherlock, I know I said I was fine with you being, you know, but isn’t this a bit much?”

Sherlock poked his head out of the kitchen. “They’re from yesterday’s case. Graham couldn’t find anywhere that could take all of them at such short notice and the aquarium can’t take them for another two days so I said I’d hold on to them until they were ready for them.”

“It’s Greg.” John tried to correct him in vain, “Why couldn’t they just stay in the flat?”

“The falling rock had cracked the glass, they thought it better to remove all the animals as soon as possible. They found shops that would take the others but no one had the capacity or wanted to keep all the tangs together.”

John, keeping his observation that _they_ barely had space to himself, knelt down beside the largest crate to look at them more closely. “If you were taking in homeless fish I would have thought you’d have taken the murderous lionfish, he seemed more like your ideal pet.”

Sherlock came over to join him, the tangs flocking to his side of the crate when he sat cross legged on the floor. “Murderous isn’t a very accurate description John, animals don’t plan their kills the way humans do. It was a female actually, and not the nicest. Appalling language and temper, worse than you on a bad day.”

“I’m not that bad-wait,” John stared at Sherlock in realisation. “you can talk to fish.”

“Yes, I would have thought that was obvious from how I solved that case.”

John just kept looking at him incredulously. “You can talk to fish.” He repeated.

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I suppose now is a good time to tell you that I can communicate with aquatic animals?”

John laughed in part disbelief, part child-like wonder.

“Dolphins?”

“Yes.”

“Seabirds?”

Sherlock hummed in affirmation.

“Seals?”

“Yes, and I’m going to stop you there.”

John looked back at the tangs, which were still milling around at Sherlock’s side. “What are they saying?”

“They don’t speak in the same way we do,” Sherlock explained, “They use colour and gestures to communicate, and that translates into meaning. For me anyway. More vocal animals are easier to talk to, because it’s just like learning a human language. Sort of. As for what they’re saying…” he watched them for a moment “It’s not much. They’re just excited to be able to speak to me, and to be able to live with me for a while. Humans, or half-humans, that can understand animals aren’t commonplace you know.”

John watched the tangs with a touch of pity now, this was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to them in a while. “How did they help you solve the case?”

“They told me what happened, and where to look for the lionfish. They’re not as stupid as people think.”

“Can they understand me?”

“No, just me.”

“Ah.”

John was about to get up, but then Sherlock opened his mouth. The sound that came out was unlike anything John had ever heard. It was fluid and musical, almost as if the language was sung instead of spoken. Interspersed within it were some noises John thought he recognised, such as clicks and a whistle that sounded like something a dolphin would make. The tangs suddenly swarmed to the side of the crate nearest John and watched him, waving their fins to stay in position. John stared in Sherlock’s direction, who smiled at the look of wonderment that must have been on his face.

“I introduced you, and they now find you fascinating because of your connection with me. I tried to tell them that you were a surgeon, since they’re surgeon fish, but I don’t think they understood that bit.”

John didn’t really know what to say. “Can you tell them thanks?”

Sherlock grinned and clicked a few times, the tangs bobbed in response. “I didn’t learn to speak Mer, like everything else it seems to be a built in ability.” He put his hand in to the water and let the tangs cluster around it, nuzzling his fingers affectionately.

“You should have been a marine biologist.”

Sherlock’s lips tightened and a strange, almost sad, look flitted momentarily across his face. “It would have been too tempting.” He murmured, still looking forlorn and lost, as if in a memory. He shook himself and blinked, back to normal. “You can put your hand in too.”

It took a bit more encouragement, but John allowed the fish to investigate his hand while Sherlock told him about the animals he had spoken with, whatever John’s question had awoken forgotten by the two of them, at least for now. John laughed when Sherlock told him about Mycroft using gulls to keep an eye on the Thames area for him, he couldn’t imagine Mycroft in his fancy suits chatting to a flock of gulls.

“So if Baker Street starts to look like a scene from _The Birds_ , I should blame Mycroft.”

“Exactly. But the good thing is that some of the gulls like me, so with a bit of persuasion I can, _encourage_ , them to annoy him. I asked them to bother him as he was going to a meeting once. You should have seen his face, and the state of his suit.”

John shook with mirth, causing the tangs to scatter.

oOo

It was certainly an odd two days, but finally the fish had to go. John didn’t know who was more morose when Sherlock’s contact from the London Aquarium came to pick them up, Sherlock or the tangs. They hovered at the side of their respective containers staring at Sherlock, there was no other way to describe it, accusingly, and deliberately made their transferal to the containers in which they would make their way to the aquarium more difficult than necessary until Sherlock discreetly wiggled his fingers at them (John assumed he was mimicking their fin movements).

John helped carry the lidded buckets down to the van, being even more conscious of his cargo than he would have been before this madness had started. “He used to help us out you know.” Tim, the aquarium employee, told John. “Before he started detecting, and before he got too busy. Anything that involved handling the animals in some way, catching them, vet visits and things like that. They just completely relaxed around him. We had awful trouble with one of the penguins the other day, I should have called him but I completely forgot. I wasn’t sure if he’d come anyway.”

“You should,” John said, suddenly confident that he was speaking the truth, “He would love to, I know he would.”

Tim grinned broadly and shook John’s hand heartily, then turned as Sherlock helped Laura (Tim’s co-worker) place the last few containers into the back of the van. “John was just saying that you’d like to come and help us again, if you have time.” Tim said cheerfully before John could stop him. Sherlock looked from Tim to John and back again.

“I’d…yes, I would, actually.” He said haltingly as Tim pumped both their hands up and down enthusiastically and drove away with a shout of, “So long, and thanks for all the fish!” which he seemed to find hilarious. John waited until the van was gone before turning to Sherlock, “I’m sorry, he told me about what you used to do with them and how he wished he had had your help with a penguin the other day, and I just blurted it out.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sherlock said, and surprised John with a genuine smile, “I keep meaning to say it to them but I always forget.”

“You mean you’re too proud to, you plonker. At least that’s cheered you up, I thought that I’d have to buy you a goldfish to keep you happy.”

“I never had a goldfish when I was younger, or even at university, I could barely take care of myself, I didn’t want to endanger another life too.”

“You know that that’s what people usually say when they say that they don’t want kids.” John said as they headed up the stairs.

“Goldfish are much more interesting. Did you know that their memory lasts for three months? Why was Tim so absurdly happy when he made that last statement? He was thanking us for minding the fish, what was so funny?” Sherlock said, confused, as he sat at the desk and opened a laptop.

“Douglas Adams reference. _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy_? Never mind. What are you looking up?”

“Aquariums.”

“I’m not getting you a fish Sherlock, you heard Tim, you can go to help them out whenever you want.” Sherlock scowled and then began typing furiously with a grin that set off John’s internal “Sherlock is about to do something stupid” alarm bells. “What are you doing? Is that my laptop?”

“I’m updating your post about babysitting a shoal of fish by saying that you are now refusing to get me one.”

“Sherlock!”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait, life kept throwing up things that had to be dealt with.


End file.
